


Ritual

by numbika



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack, Crowley Being Crowley, Human Sacrifice, M/M, Short One Shot, and Azi being Azi, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:55:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23945047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/numbika/pseuds/numbika
Summary: There is only a few things less annoying then getting interrupted at a pleasant dinner. One of them is being interrupted by constant ritualistic chanting.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Ritual

The ritual was in session for at least an hour. The members of the cult chanted louder and louder, in the warm humid atmosphere of the cellar. In the dim light of the hundred blood red candles the tied-up victim feebly tried to get free from her restrains but with no avail. The leather was too strong, and she was drugged to be just aware of her surroundings.

The cult leader flipped the page in his occult book continuing the dark incantation they were repeating when suddenly the pentagram on the other side of the room flared up and two figures appeared. The cult leader didn’t even had time to become surprised when the taller one, a thin dark person an expertly tailored suit, wearing sunglasses hurried to him, and knocked the book out of his hand.

"Would you shut the hell up?!" He shouted with slightly twitching left eye.

The cult leader blinked a couple of times, stunned, and his flock, about a dozen man and women wearing dark foreboding clothes, complete with blood red belts, slowly fell silent as well.

"FINALLY!" Exclaimed the stranger and rubbed his temples. His companion, a shorter man, with fair blond hair and a suit which style would be more at home in the previous century, looked around curiously. When his eyes stopped at the sacrifice he slowly walked up to the altar.

At last, the cult leader managed to compose himself.

"Who the hell are you? " He asked finally his own anger mounting. "Do you have any idea how long does it takes to set up the summoning ritual?"

"Based on the time you were shouting in my goddam head about one and a half hour!"Responded the taller stranger bitingly. The cult leader puffed up himself up and drew his ceremonial knife.

"Now listen to me you assh-" Before he could finish his sentence the tall stranger snorted and then raised one of his fingers and then he tapped it against the cult leader's chest. The occult master disappeared, leaving behind a small puff of acrid smoke, clothes, and the sacrificial knife, which fell to the ground clanking. His flock moved as one person towards the tall man who just calmly raised his finger again. The sudden rush of humans halted, well out of finger reach.

"Before anyone tries to do something nasty." The man slowly removed his sunglasses showing the crowd his vibrant yellow eyes. "Just remember I have a much vibrant imagination on that part. "

The cultists shuddered and knelt down as one.

"Oh my dark master…" One who, based on his slightly fancier robes must have been the second in command in their little religious organization, spoke up. "Why did you punish your devoted servants?"

"Don’t _'oh my dark master'_ me. Have you got any idea what another demon would have done with the lot of you?" Asked the man with almost palpable indignation.

The cultist glanced at each other.

"But, dark master, we done everything written in the book." The demon rolled his eyes and extended his arms.

"Really? Did you _really_? Because I think the only two things that are genuine here is the book and the sacrifice." At that some cultist glanced towards the girl who oddly quieted down. They tried to raise some objection about the fact that the demon's companion was meticulously worked on untying her, but then the yellow eyed stranger bent down and got something from the floor. It was the ceremonial dagger. The demon started talking without even reacting to those who tried to speak up.

"Look at this! What is this? The book definitely asked for a sacrificial dagger. This is a steak knife painted with gold spray paint. Come on guys you couldn’t have believed this would work. "

"Its…Well…. We have a pentagram." Protested one of the cultists.

"Yes, made out of red paint and glass instead of a priest's blood and crushed rubies. A demon can really tell, I assure you." Sneered the yellow eyed stranger.

"Candles, the candles must be right." Stated another cultist in vain hope.

The demon sniffed into the air and then sighed.

"Cherry scented ones from a supermarket. Not exactly created from the fat of a slaughtered lamb is it? Look, you can't just half ass these things. All or nothing, most demons are really stickler for traditions. I know. I have worked with them." He rubbed his forehead and noticed the small washing machine at the very edge of the room. It was hastily covered in a star patterned tablecloth. The demon sighed wearily." What the hell do you wanted to summon a demon anyway? "

"For money." Said one of the cultists

"And fame, and dark evil powers." Added the right hand of the previous leader who realized that without his boss, now he might get a chance in the spotlight.

"Become a politician then. You get all the dark evil powers with fame and money as you want. Or a financial advisor, maybe a lawyer. If you don’t want to get that quiet so vile, do organized crime. You all get to go down either way, but at least you get to live a little before that."

There were some murmurs from the members of the cult and then the self-titled new leader spoke up.

"And if we don’t want to do that? " The demon's eyes glinted maliciously.

"Then you can follow your leader wherever I sent him." There was an ocean of menace behind those eyes. Suddenly every cult member began to reconsider their life choices and found out that a life full of normal everyday evils might be infinitely better than just dying right here at the hands of an occult one. 

"I am also taking your book." The demon reached down and grabbed the ancient tome with the same elegance and reverence one would treat a morning newspaper.

"But…" The second man in the cult stepped closer but the demon once again raised his finger and waggled it. The man stepped back into the line.

"And we will be taking this poor girl too."

Suddenly the cultist realized that the demons companion was still in the room. During their talk with the black clad stranger he managed to untie the sacrifice, and gently led the barely conscious girl to the pentagram.

"What?" Asked the leader of the cultists and the demon at the same time.

"Excuse me, can we have a minute? I need to talk with my friend over there." The demon briskly walked to the other man and stepped right next to him. They started a muffled conversation, but the cultists do manage to glimpse some tidbits here and there, along the lines of:

"Look you can't just pick up every stray when you see them. We were at a DINNER we can't just arrive with a half-naked young women. Its impolite."

"Oh come on, Crowley, when was the last time something being impolite ever worried you?"

"Five hundred bc…That's not the point here. Look can we not do this right now."

"If you won't let me take her home before we continue our dinner, I shan't continue our dinner at all."

"What? Don't be like that…"

"I said what I said." With that the man in the lighter suit puffed himself off. His companion answered with a now clearly audible.

"Fine."

The demon, named Crowley, turned back towards the cultist. "We are taking the girl too. She was a sacrifice after all and I'm a demon. And I haven't even eaten out your eyeballs or something like that like any of my old coworkers would have. So how about you sit a little here thinking about the prospects I raised and I won't be forced to vaporize any of you before we go? Sounds like a plan isn't it?"

The cultists slowly nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing with the not being vaporized part, and being generally lukewarm about the other things.

"Wonderful. Off we go then…What?" He asked as his companion gently tugged on his sleeves and whispered a question in his ears. "No of course not. I know you are particular about that. He just has some swimming to do." The demons companion nodded smiling, and waved at the cultists. 

"In shark infested waters." Added Crowley before he disappeared in a puff of sulfurish smoke. The other man snorted, and also popped away with the girl they were meant to sacrifice.

There was a long and awkward silence in the room followed by a bit of shuffling. After a couple of minutes one of the cultists spoke up.

"Brendon…"

"Master Occultist." Corrected the former second man of the cult, rapidly climbing at the top of the ladder before anyone could dispute his ascension.

"Master Occultist….what the _hell_ just happened here?"

"I have absolutely no idea. "


End file.
